


2am Was Theirs

by Desdimonda



Category: Naruto, Naruto Shippuden
Genre: Asphyxiation, Autoerotic Asphyxiation, Bottom Uchiha Itachi, Drabble, Hair-pulling, It's more poetic porn I guess, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Poetic, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-15
Updated: 2018-12-15
Packaged: 2019-09-18 13:41:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16996065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Desdimonda/pseuds/Desdimonda
Summary: The middle of the night is when Itachi and Shisui find their peace and solace.





	2am Was Theirs

**Author's Note:**

> Set in an AU where Shisui doesn't die. Proabably post-war. Probably no massacre. I'll let you imagine what you wanna <3 but I might make a short series of vignettes of these two.

2am.

It was theirs.

No one else walked this time except those who broke the line, using the shawl of night as their guide, and the silence as their mask.

Hidden figures, seen, but unseen, known, but unknown. They lived here. Loved here. Blind and mute to the living who held the line. Sometimes people came here begging to be forgotten. Sometimes they came to be remembered or wanted _.  _ Sometimes, it was the  _ only _ place. 

It had become more familiar than day to Itachi and Shisui. Day felt stark, ungiving and unwanted. Twilight was an embrace almost as sweet as each other. Because here, they could be  _ each other.  _

Translucent, bare, their bodies entwined with the threads of twilight and one other as they twisted, turned, writing a memory behind eyes that glowed through the black of their hair and the night. 

Here, a kiss could be hidden, shrouded in a mystery that only they could unravel. Here, only they could know the way the moonlight made Shisui's hair shine a deep, stormy blue, his curls reminding Itachi of the motion of wild waves when he moved up, and down, his head so beautifully rhythmic, nestled between his legs as his tongue lavished his length.

Here, they were free. 

Freedom was something Itachi hadn't understood until Shisui. He'd been constrained by the own chains of his mind, the bindings of his heart, the way he knew he was expected to be. But with Shisui, he was never expected to be anything. 

For with Shisui, he just  _ was.  _

3am.

He was Shisui's. 

Shisui breathed slowly, deeply, as he slid inside Itachi, fingers sinking into his hips as he kept him steady, savouring the seconds they were one and still. 

Itachi's back knew this grass, this forest, these sticks and stones that scratched his skin, marking memories he couldn't see but Shisui would always feel. His hands were always restless, feeling Itachi's body as if he'd forgotten what it was. 

And now, was no different. 

But it wasn't what mesmerised Itachi this night, it was the way he  _ moved.  _

An arm hooked beneath Itachi's thigh, giving them angle, and a short, sharp moan that broke the muggy silence, heavy with jasmine, with turned earth and squashed leaves. 

He touched his thigh with desperate fingers, scratching the skin, again, again, before a kiss, two, more, peppered his knee. 

Every motion was languid, fluid -  _ beauty.  _

Shisui's gentle thrusts rustled the leaves beneath his knees, they shook his curled hair that Itachi twisted in his fingers, one, two, three, feeling the damp skin beneath his touch.

He thrust hard, dragging Itachi along the forest floor. Itachi's back arched, he sang, his fingers pulled hard at the moonlit curls, tugging, tearing, gasping. 

A hiss. A hand. A hand. Fingers around his neck, pushing him in place, down, down against the forest floor, a twig scratching his back. 

Sweat damp curls touched his lips. He licked them. 

It was the way he moved. It was always the way he moved. But maybe it was because Itachi couldn't move that he was in awe with the Shisui  _ could.  _

Lazy, red eyes blinked, as he barely breathed, small, whining moans falling past his damp lips, stained with threads of his black hair, askew, wild, awry. 

The moonlight surrounded Shisui, alighting his body, reminding Itachi of his susanoo. It gave him an alluring strength, power and beauty he'd always envied and wanted. 

But he supposed he had it now, in a way. 

There was so much of Shisui he'd admired all of his life. Had he ever really told him? Could he already see? 

Thumbs dragged along Itachi's bottom lip, tips pushing inside. Itachi bit. Shisui moaned. Itachi watched. 

Arms drew out at Itachi's sides, echoing the splay of his hair, an echo of ebony wings erupting from his shoulders, ready to soar. 

Fingers pressed against his neck, eyes met, curls rolled, Itachi's back arched. 

Shisui thrust. Once more. Again. Harder. Until he cried out, fingers pulling the hair caught in his hands and spent himself inside. 

His movement was exquisite. His whole body gasped with him, rolling with the crest of his orgasm, letting the ripples of moonlight dance and dance across his skin, painting it twilight. The only time they were free. 

One by one, his fingers slipped free, leaving behind familiar marks on Itachi's neck. He gasped, enjoying the gift of breath once more, but also missing his binds. 

Shisui sat still, watching, breathing, droplets of sweat trickling down his skin. He'd seen this sight endlessly, night after night, etched behind his eyes with memories to last ten lifetimes. But even now, he felt something new.

Gently, slowly, Shisui leaned forward, sliding out of Itachi, covering their legs in his hot, sticky seed. Hands spread across his cheeks, lips met lips. 

“I think I love you,” whispered Shisui. 

4am.


End file.
